


Early Detection (How to Dodge a Bullet)

by ifdragonscouldtalk



Series: Whumptober 2019 [3]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: BAMF James T. Kirk, BAMF Spock (Star Trek), Cussing, Derogatory Language, Gen, Guns, Hurt/Comfort, Made up Aliens - Freeform, Non-Graphic Violence, Spock-centric, Terrorism, Terrorists, Whump, Whumptober 2019, could be read as jim/spock, no serious injuries, spock whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-24 16:08:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21340987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifdragonscouldtalk/pseuds/ifdragonscouldtalk
Summary: “Well, Mr Spock, that was quite an impressive display today.”“Impressive display!” Doctor McCoy cried, and Spock had the distinct impression he would’ve thrown his hands in the air for emphasis if he hadn’t been holding his medical tricorder over him. “He’s been held at gunpoint by terrorists, and you call it ‘impressive’?”“He did save several hundred civilians with his quick thinking and early detection, Bones.”“Thank you, Captain. In addition, I believe you will find the part Mr Scott needed under that Undorian bracelet stand over there. When the doors opened I slid it there to keep it safe. It should be undamaged.” Jim and McCoy both looked at him for a moment, blinking, before Jim burst out laughing.“Well I’ll be damned,” McCoy muttered, looking back down at his scans.
Relationships: James T. Kirk & Spock
Series: Whumptober 2019 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1508297
Comments: 7
Kudos: 137





	Early Detection (How to Dodge a Bullet)

**Author's Note:**

> Whumptober day five: Gunpoint 
> 
> I realize it is no longer October. Too bad, this is what I'm doing! Also, this was meant to be 1000 words. It is significantly longer. I hope you like it.  
No one is seriously injured in this. It turned out more plotty than whumpy. Not my intention, but it worked anyway.

Spock sensed it before anyone else. 

He was only in the starbase agora to pick up a necessary part for the engine repairs, as Leonard was still spitting mad at Jim for the last disastrous time he had beamed away from the ship and managed to break his arm on a simple diplomatic mission, and Scotty was elbow deep in the delicate engine wiring and too paranoid to trust any of his ensigns with the package. Spock was the logical conclusion to pick up the part, as he would be able to determine any abnormalities with it and ensure its safe delivery. The part was tucked under his arm now, wrapped in aluminum and brown paper to ensure its safety, as he headed back to the designated area where he could beam back aboard the _ Enterprise_. They weren’t even stopping for shore leave, much to the crew’s immense and easily heard displeasure. 

Due to the unique control Vulcans had over their bodies, they sometimes sensed environmental disturbances before anyone else. In some places, this was a source of fear and discrimination -- Spock himself had several times been called a prophet or harbinger by religious civilizations they had visited. It was the reason he could sense the unusual compound entering his bloodstream through the air before the gas was even thick enough to affect anyone but children. He wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but he could see several children begin to cough around him. It was prudent to evacuate the agora as quickly as possible, in case the compound was harmful in some manner. 

This is what led him to pulling the fire alarm nearby with all the poise he possessed, pulling out his communicator at the same time and contacting the ship. “Captain, I believe there is an emergency on the starbase. Our assistance may be required.” 

“_Considering I can hear that fire alarm, I would think so, Mr Spock. What’s going on?_” 

“There is some kind of compound in the air, the effects of which are as of yet indeterminate. The agora is currently being evacuated. I am about to help direct it, as no guards have yet shown up.” 

“_Alright, Mr Spock, we’ll work on getting you more information and helping from where we are. _ Enterprise _ out_.” 

“Indeed.” 

He turned to the chaos in the agora, people looking around in confusion or running to the exits and raised his voice, thankful that his deep voice projected easily and his tall stature could quickly demand attention, and that he was somewhat recognizable from his travels with the Captain and the _ Enterprise_. “Please remain calm. There is an unidentified compound in the air of the agora. Proceed to the nearest exits without undue panic, where I am sure there are officials waiting to help resolve this situation.” 

Heads had turned to him at his loud call, and now they turned away once more, mothers and fathers ushering their families towards the various exits, elders being led by teens, teens being corralled by older couples, and Spock almost felt satisfaction at the display of harmony and communication and _ respect _ between different species, a display which was often sorely lacking in their travels, despite the equality touted by the Federation. He did his best to keep people from running or shoving, and a trickling sense of unease began to creep down the back of his neck. 

He was ushering a single father with three young children out the door, the last person besides him still left in the agora, and was almost surprised by how efficiently the evacuation went, especially since no security force had made an appearance yet. The air was now becoming thick with gas, and he pulled his shirt up over his nose and mouth as he surveyed the scene again, part still tucked carefully under his arm, all but forgotten. It wouldn’t do to accidentally leave a child or unhappy shop keeper in the agora, and he keenly scanned through the gas, taking a step further into the room and allowing the door to swing shut behind him, listening carefully past the hiss of gas for footsteps or breathing or other signals of life at the same time he was freeing his communicator to contact the ship. 

His comm unit chirped before he could open it, and he flipped it out with practiced ease. “Spock here.” 

“_Spock, are you free of the agora?_” 

“Negative, Captain. I was performing a last inspection of the area to check for remaining beings, as no security force has arrived yet.” 

“_They wouldn’t. There’s been an attack on the base, an indeterminate terrorist faction, who has dispatched most of the security force yet. It seems, Mr Spock, you rather threw a wrench in their plans when you detected the compound. Internal decontamination says it’s just a sort of multispecial sleeping gas. God knows what they want with all those people, but it can’t be good, so admirable work, Commander._” 

“Thank you, Captain.”

“_We’re beaming down our own security forces now, but it’s going to take a few minutes to get organized. Once you’ve finished your sweep, get out of the agora. The group is still at large._”

“Affirmative, Captain. I’ve completed my inspection now.” He did a quick about face and headed to the door closest to the emergency beam points, thinking it to be most efficient to meet up with his crewmates and help organize the scene. Something instinctual was still prickling on his back, and his head started to feel light and muddled as the compounds in the gas crept into his bloodstream despite his crude covering with his shirt. “Captain, if the terrorists have not been found, we should start a full evacuation of the base.” 

“_I’m already on it, Spo-_” 

The rest of Kirk’s words were unfortunately lost in the bang of every door to the agora opening at once. It seemed, at least, that the evacuated civilians had gotten somewhere safe, as past the heavily armed and gas-masked beings he could only deduce were the terrorists, the halls of the starbase were empty. If he were prone to showing relief, he would be rather strongly relieved that he, a trained officer and a Vulcan, were the only collateral damage in the situation. 

And, really, he was only collateral damage if he died, and given he was now their only hostage, that seemed quite unlikely. 

Wisely, he did not move as all the guns trained on him, sensitive ears picking up every curse and snarl the various terrorists let out when they encountered an empty agora and a still-standing Vulcan Commander of the flagship for Starfleet. The gas was quickly being dispersed now, siphoned off by the starbase’s internal decontamination protocols, and as it cleared around him he allowed his shirt to drop and cleared his throat, holding up his arms in a peaceful surrender. 

“_Spock, talk to me._” Jim was sounding worried and spoke unreasonably loud, and Spock’s spinning head and sensitive ears did not appreciate it. 

“Close the communicator,” one of the terrorists said as they approached him, voice muffled by the gas mask but their gun, a primitive thing that would’ve made McCoy cuss and Sulu light up in pleasure, held steady. He carefully flipped the communicator shut with one hand, and allowed the masked being to take it from him and crush it underfoot, mentally adding the cost to his running tally of requisitions costs for this standard month. His head spun dangerously, a foreign feeling, and he wondered if whatever compound they had vented into the agora was interacting badly with his hybrid biology, or if this was a normal reaction. “On your knees.” He knelt gracefully at the order, raising his chin to continue to look up at the being, who he could only assume at this point was the leader of the faction. 

“He’s being too compliant,” one of the others hissed, angry and scared. Fear was good. Fear made it easy to turn people against each other, and Spock was not above exploiting that. “I know him, he’s Jim Kirk’s Vulcan fucktoy.” He raised an eyebrow at the vulgar description, wondering where they had gotten such an idea. “The Commander of the _ Enterprise_, or whatever. I bet he was comming Kirk just now! We should just get out of here while we can, Vola, if the _ Enterprise _ is in orbit we’ve already failed!” 

“I have no reason not to comply,” Spock answered their worry evenly, turning his head to look at the one who had spoken, hands still raised in surrender. “It would not be beneficial for me to get injured, just as it would not be beneficial for you to injure me, given that I am your only piece of leverage. It is only logical for us to comply with each other in the effort of reaching a common goal.” 

“Common goal, huh?” The leader, who he guessed was Vola, scoffed. Spock tilted his head. 

“Getting out of the agora and off the starbase.” 

“Right, because _ that _ was our goal when we flooded the agora,” another said sarcastically. Spock did not deign them with a reaction, watching Vola as they finally pulled off their mask, revealing pale skin and orange tusks, a flat nose, long white hair. Tremind. The pieces of the attack suddenly fell into place. 

The Treminds were about to sign a treaty to finally join the Federation in an official capacity, rather than just being a trade ally, and there had been a large faction who were very much against the decision. The _ Enterprise _ had just been at Tremin a month ago, negotiating the terms of the treaty and attempting to show the Federation’s good faith. It was there, during an attack by the rebel faction, that Jim had broken his arm, defending the Pro-Magistrate of the Treminds against what he claimed was a flying chair someone had thrown. 

Vola considered him with pale eyes, and Spock stared back evenly, refusing to be cowed despite his suddenly aching head. His vision wavered, but although his thoughts felt sluggish, he did not feel he was about to lose consciousness -- he would remain functional. 

Or he thought he would, until Vola struck him hard across the cheek with their primitive gun, making the wavering vision morph into infringing blackness, his body sagging as it suddenly refused to respond to his orders. “Tie him up,” he heard Vola say as his vision was swallowed up. “He’s weak from the gas. He won’t be able to escape. He’s right, he’s our only bargaining chip. But if there’s anything we learned about that idiot Kirk, it’s that he can’t stand to see people hurt. I bet that goes double for his little concubine here.” 

* * *

Jim Kirk could not get his heart to beat normally. 

Bones was hovering over the shoulder of his chair, grumbling at his tricorder angrily, but Jim knew it was a cover for his worry over Spock, for his concern over what stupid stunt Jim might pull this time. “Uhura?” he said again, just as he had every five minutes for the past hour. Nyota, ever the professional, did not sigh, although he was sure at this point she wanted to, just as he was sure she was just as worried as he was. 

“Still unable to hail him, Captain. His communicator is off or destroyed.” 

“Damn,” he breathed, rubbing his thumb across his lips, a nervous habit he had never been able to shake. Sulu and Chekov were staring at him, eyes wide with worry, and Scotty was helping organize the security forces down on base, stationing them around the nearly empty agora. Nearly empty, except for Spock, because of his impeccable sense of duty. 

“Captain, we are being hailed from the starbase.” 

“On screen,” he said, straightening in his chair, prepared to speak with the administrators of the base. He hid his shock well at seeing a Tremind on screen instead. He did not hide the shock at seeing Spock, kneeling, tied up, face bloody and bruised on one cheek, held at the gunpoint of said Tremind. He saw Hikaru stiffen out of the corner of his eye, taking in the primitive projectile gun and automatically calculating the damage it could do to a body of flesh, even one as hardy as Spock’s. Spock didn’t seem to be tracking fully, eyes half-lidded and glazed, head held up by a hand in his hair. “What is the meaning of this?” He was gratified that his voice sounded as commanding as he intended and didn’t shake. Bones had fallen silent behind him, no doubt taking in Spock’s state and already calculating the amount of damage which could be hidden from them and how to treat it. 

“_Meaning, Captain Kirk? I believe you can infer that for yourself._” 

“I’m not about to play games with you, here. You have my Commander. What are you wishing to gain from this?”

“_Well, if your little slut hadn’t fucked up our plans, we’d have more than just your Commander, Captain. But, as he pointed out, he’s quite enough bargaining power over you. Isn’t he, Captain?_” 

Jim felt his eye twitch. “You aren’t going to get off the base. Security forces even now have surrounded the agora. We’ve found your ship and detained it, and those few remaining behind to man it. You have one hostage and no exits. What are you hoping to gain?” 

“_Gain? We had hoped to gain a dissolution of the treaty agreement between the Treminds and the Federation, but Spock here screwed up our chances. One hostage isn’t worth a treaty, even I know that, Captain. But, this hostage in particular? He’s more than enough to hurt you, you damned Human, for shoving your nose into our business and corrupting our Pro-Magistrate with your pretty lies._” Jim felt himself pale, a twinge of phantom pain going through his once broken arm. Bones stepped forward like he was going to say something, but Jim grabbed his wrist and he subsided, his skin clammy and pale. Spock seemed to stir at the Tremind’s words, blinking slowly and looking up at the communicator, eyes finally coming into focus. 

“_Captain. Do not worry for me-_” His words were cut off by a hard strike of a boot and a jerk at his hair, a soft, reflexive whoosh of air leaving his lips. 

“Are you an idiot?!” Bones shouted, unable to stop himself this time, and Jim gripped his wrist hard enough to leave bruises. “You’re being held at gunpoint, dumbass, just _ shut up _ for once in your life!” The Tremind smiled at that, releasing Spock’s hair and smacking him in his unbruised cheek with the butt of his gun, making the Vulcan’s head snap to the side. Spock kept his head turned and hanging, his bangs obscuring his eyes, and Jim knew it was only for the terrorists benefit, to make them think he was weaker now than he really was. A plan began to form, and he kept the small smile that wanted to grow off his lips, instead standing in frustrated desperation, stalking around his chair and to the back of the Bridge, not for the first time glad that Uhura’s station was located right behind him. 

Nyota looked up at him, concern shining through the professionalism on her face, and he stood with his head bowed and his fists on his hips, posture defeated even as he whispered to her, so soft only she could hear. “Can you create a looping video of the Bridge, as if we are still watching this sick transmission?” 

“Of course, Captain,” she whispered back, lips barely moving, knowing that she could be seen by the Treminds. The sound of flesh being struck and the harsh gasps of the rest of the Bridge crew, including some sniffles from Pavel, covered their words well. “But why?”

“I’ve got a plan, Lieutenant, as long as you can create an opening for us.” 

“Yes, Captain.” He allowed himself to flinch at another huff of air forced out of Spock and whirled around, allowing his wildness to show in his eyes. 

“What would you have me do?” he asked, spreading his arms imploringly. The Tremind did not deign him with an answer, that sick smile still on their face, but Spock looked up and raised an eyebrow, seeing the plan already on Jim’s face. People always seemed to find his and his Commander’s understanding of each other and their thought processes disturbing. He thought it was what made them such a good command pair, and believed every command team should have such an understanding of each other. 

He made a show of stiffly walking back to his chair and sitting in it, leaning forward with his hands between his knees, rubbing them together nervously, jaw set, as if ready to watch all the punishment the Treminds had prepared for Spock like a loyal Captain should. Bones laid a hand on his shoulder. Hikaru glanced down and clenched his fists against the pilot console. Pavel rubbed his nose. 

“Captain, it’s done,” Uhura said, and he leapt out of his seat once more, clapping his hands together. 

“Great, call our auxiliary Bridge crew in! I doubt any of you would allow me to leave you behind.” 

“Like hell, sir,” Hikaru confirmed as they all rose and followed him to the turbolift, swiftly checking and preparing their phasers. 

“Phasers to stun,” he ordered as they exited and stalked towards the transporter room. “Under no circumstances are we to seriously injure these men, unless you are trying to defend the life of yourself or another.” He got a chorus of “Yes, Captain”s in response, and nearly ran into Scotty as he came darting out the transporter room door just as they were about to enter, both jerking to a stop and staring at each other. Scotty was pale, sweating and panting like he had just ran a marathon. 

“Captain,” he breathed. “I heard Mr Spock was-”

“Indeed, Mr Scott. We’re about to beam down to rescue him. Phaser to stun, Scotty.” 

“Aye, Captain.” 

Bones laid an arm on his hand as he began to program the coordinates into the console along with a delayed energize capacity. “Jim, I thought they had blockers on the agora to keep people from beaming down there. Only the official transport points are supposed to be accessible.” 

“That’s right, Bones, but their blockers are easily bypassed by Federation starships exactly for emergencies such as this one. Get on the pad, Doctor.” Bones grumbled at him but jogged with him to the platform. “Ready, crew? Energizing in 3, 2, 1...” 

* * *

Spock couldn’t say he was tracking very well when the Captain finally beamed down with the Bridge crew. The compound from the gas was still wreaking havoc in his blood, making nausea rise in his throat, and he had taken several blows to the head that glazed his vision with green and black. He could hear the sounds of phasers, and the thump of bodies hitting the hard floor, along with the overly-loud report of gunfire being returned, and hoped that the Captain’s illogical proficiency for low-probability but highly-desirable situation yields continued today in a manner that no one was struck by a projectile. He looked up when a shadow fell over him to see the Bridge crew standing there, unarmed, Sulu, Chekov, and Scotty each with their phasers still trained on the stunned Treminds, Uhura circling behind him to undo his binds. Jim smiled at him. 

“Well, Mr Spock, that was quite an impressive display today.” 

“Impressive display!” Doctor McCoy cried, and Spock had the distinct impression he would’ve thrown his hands in the air for emphasis if he hadn’t been holding his medical tricorder over him. “He’s been held at gunpoint by terrorists, and you call it ‘impressive’?”

“He did save several hundred civilians with his quick thinking and early detection, Bones.” 

“Thank you, Captain. In addition, I believe you will find the part Mr Scott needed under that Undorian bracelet stand over there. When the doors opened I slid it there to keep it safe. It should be undamaged.” Jim and McCoy both looked at him for a moment, blinking, before Jim burst out laughing. 

“Well I’ll be damned,” McCoy muttered, looking back down at his scans.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this fic, please consider finding my tumblr to discover more ways to support me. I really like coffee.


End file.
